


I Cannot Forget

by LikeTotesSecret



Series: Regrets [2]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: And Aragorn's a bit angsty but I love him anyway, And he's so longsuffering, And Éomer, Dáin being a badass and not taking the Valar's shit, Er..., Gen, I also love these dumb Dwarves, Seriously I love Dáin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-07 02:16:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3157403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LikeTotesSecret/pseuds/LikeTotesSecret
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Side-stories for my 'Regrets' universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur's Choices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three of the same reasons to go on.

The darkness cleared faster than he had expected, leaving only the soft glow of torchlight in the empty corridor Bofur stood in. Though he recognized the corridor, all the doors but one had seemingly ceased to exist, leaving only the door leading to his family's living chambers.

 _It seemed that between one blink and the next he had passed, and before him stood the shop he had spent so much of his life in, the one he hadn't managed to visit in three years. He was_ standing _, and that by itself was enough to inform Bombur that he had died._

**Bifur's mind was clear, for the first time in far too long. His vision was crystal-sharp, his posture perfect, his body obeying his every command. It was almost stranger than when he had realized the opposite of all those things for the first time. Before him stood the little house he and his cousins had lived in in the Blue Mountains, ramshackle and dull, but nonetheless home.**

His feet led him while his mind wandered, taking him directly to the familiar door. It stood partway open, not enough to see inside but enough to know that the option to enter was there. Quiet footsteps echoed behind him as he stared down the seemingly endless corridor.

_He could see through the shop windows that the building was empty of people, though what looked to be fresh pastries lay tantalizingly in the windows. The door lay slightly ajar, the little bell attached tinkling in a draft. A hand was laid on his shoulder, and he turned to look at the stranger beside him._

**He moved to sit on the stoop, not minding the ajar door beside him. Mahal sat beside him.**

"Father?"

_"Are you Mahal?"_

**"Hello, Father."**

Bofur blinked as the father of all Dwarves explained his choice to him. He glanced at the door to his family chambers. "So behind that door is everything I would be leaving behind if I go on?"

_Bombur moved to lay a hand on the familiar doorframe as the Vala explained everything, staring at the well-loved shop. "So the children born after the quest... everything that happened for me but never happened for Thorin and Fili and Kili... all of that will just... never happen?"_

**"There has never been a choice for me, Father."**

Bofur sighed heavily, staring at the door. "Father..."

_Bombur's fingers drifted off the doorframe to fall back to his sides. "I can't."_

**"I have lived my life. I regret nothing. To live again..."**

"Without everything I worked so hard again..."

_"To lose my family..."_

**"Would be intolerable. No, Father."**

"Let someone else save the world."

_"I wish to go"_

**"Home."**


	2. Dori, Nori, and Ori's Choices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three different reasons to go back.

**Dori didn't remember dying, which was probably the most disturbing part of finding himself standing before the rooms in the Lonely Mountain he had shared with his brothers before they had both left in favor of their own homes. The end of the hall which had laid in ruin while they had occupied it was mostly clear, however, and the bend in the hall which he knew was there was completely absent.**

_Ori remembered dying all too vividly, drums and death and utter hopelessness as the Orcish cleaver he had been forced to wield was cast down the nearby well and everything hurt and then... he stood before their house in the Blue Mountains, the road ahead of him eerily clear._

The breeze was cool. Soothing. Distinctly lacking ash which should have accompanied it. Before him stood the Desolation of Smaug as it once had been, wide and blackened. The parapet stood strong, the armies below absent. This was certainly not what Nori had expected from death.

**"Why does it hurt so much? To be alone?" Dori questioned the being standing behind him. Unseen, Mahal shrugged, and explained his choice.**

_"Was I never meant to stand on my own?" Ori asked the being suddenly standing before him. Mahal smiled sadly, telling him gently that he was to stand on his own now. He explained the choice before him, and Ori wished for his brothers._

"What am I to do next?" Nori asked quietly, watching the horizon, and when Mahal tried to tell him he had a choice, he shook his head, neither resigned nor happy. "I never had a choice."

**The wood of the door was rough from disuse and abuse, and it creaked open slowly before him.**

_The wood of the door was smooth from wind and rain, old and worn, but it opened silently on oiled hinges as he pushed at it gently._

"Can't go forward. Nowhere to go sideways." He turned a crooked smirk on Mahal. "I guess..."

**"For the brothers I could not save."**

_"For the life I could not lead."_

"I'll have to go back."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dori never wanted to go, Ori never wanted to stay, Nori just wanted to have the choice either way.
> 
> Little bit o' poetry there for ya. Yer welcome.
> 
> Mahal behind Dori: Dori well-familiar with death, but never meeting it himself.  
> Mahal in front Ori: Basically, Ori going down fighting Death  
> Mahal beside Nori: Nori and Death being stalwart companions.
> 
> Boom. Suck my deeper meanings, 9th and 11th grade English teachers who hated me.  
> Thank you 10th and 12th grade English teachers who loved me. I didn't do shit in your class but you liked my writing!


	3. Glóin and Óin's Choices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two of the same reasons to go on.

**The corridor before him was only barely familiar, and the only reason Glóin immediately recognised it as his son's Glittering Caves was the very distinctive crystals they derived their names from. Mere steps ahead of him lay the door to what he recognized from his few visits as his son's chambers. The heavy wooden door stood partly open, and it was the work of a mere moment to move to stand before it. Mahal sat beside it, though he had not a moment before.**

_The hall before the hospital wing was dead silent, eerily so. Óin had never before seen it so barren. He did not like it, but he immediately understood why it stood thus. He had never really expected to die to a massive water-monster. At least he'd have an interesting story to share with his deceased family members. He strode confidently to the door, but halted just before it as a being made its way down the hall toward him._

**After the two paths lying before him were revealed, Glóin sighed, staring at the door, tracing the very Elven swirls that decorated it with his eyes. "Oh, Father..."**

_Óin raised a skeptical eyebrow at the Vala, who was watching him with some amusement. "Ach, you know full well my answer."_

**"As much as I love the idea of adventuring once again, my task is done."**

_"My war is won."_

**"To the victor go the spoils and all that."**

_"I've gotten my spoils."_

**"I've lived my life."**

_"Let this younger version of me fight for his future."_

**"I'm done fighting."**

_"I don't need to anymore."_

**"I think it's time I saw what's on the other side."**

_"I've fought against death all my life. Let's see what it will award me in return."_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I did a better job of making this one so that the dialogue at the end can be read as one whole thing, or as two separate people talking. 
> 
> *Shrugs* Lemme know what you think.


	4. Dwaking and Balin's Choices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two different reasons to go back.

**The Guard barracks looked exactly as Dwalin had left them- thirty years before. The beds were all impeccably made, the floor clear of rubble and blood, nothing at all out of place. It was also completely empty. The door leading to his office stood partway open. He moved past the rows of cots and stood before it.**

_Balin glared at the doors to his old home in the Blue Mountains, muttering darkly under his breath as he trudged up to nudge the ajar door all the way closed, only barely managing to stop himself as his brain caught up with him and informed him that he had been looking into the dark waters of Mirrormere seconds before and therefore couldn't possibly be in the Blue Mountains, especially since he was fairly certain their old house wasn't even standing anymore. That left... hallucination, or dead._

**He did not precisely expect to hear Mahal call his name, but he was not surprised in the least when it happened. He turned to look at the Vala, who stood where he had stood before, watching him.**

_Mahal stood before him, he knew, though he was not entirely sure how. "So... hallucinating, or dead?" Mahal laughed softly at his matter-of-fact tone as he confirmed his suspicions that it was the latter. Balin sighed._

**"What do you need, Father?"**

_"All right, why am I here and not where ever we're supposed to wait for Arda Remade?"_

**Dwalin listened to the Vala's explanation and replied instantly. "Was Thorin given this option?" Mahal nodded, smiling slightly at him. "What did he choose?" The other shook his head and told him quietly that Dwalin knew the answer to that, but it had to be Dwalin's decision and no one else's.**

_Balin snorted after Mahal explained. "I don't even remember dying."_

**"Of course I'll go back."**

_"Not really a lot for me up ahead anyway, if I know my family."_

**"Thorin has always been my king, no matter who wore the crown."**

_"There will be a time for rest, but that time is not now."_

**"I promised him I'd never fail him again."**

_"This is the only way."_

**"I can uphold that promise now."**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Urgh, who even knows anymore.
> 
> hdafi;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;ahuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu
> 
> That was my kitty explaining how much she loves you. And how much I love you, that I'm still typing even though I had to ignore a purry kitty to do it. *feels ashamed* I did pet her for like an hour though so...


	5. Thorin, Fíli, and Kíli's Choices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Company reformed.

**His eyes drifted shut to Bilbo's face, and drifted open to Mahal's. Thorin was not surprised. The fact that he stood outside the bedchambers he had occupied in his twenties, however, was a surprise.**

He had barely felt the pain, and when he looked up, Mahal stood before him. The house he had grown up in leaned before him, door slightly ajar.

_Agonizing pain, then nothing. So when he opened his eyes to see Mahal, he felt perfectly justified in screaming his lungs out, especially since he was casually standing in front of their open front door._

**"This isn't really what I was expecting."**

"Kíli?"

_"What... oh fuck, wha- DEAD! I'm dead, oh fuck. Wait, so that means- Fíli? Is Fíli here?"_

**Thorin snorted as Mahal asked him what, precisely, he had been expecting. "I don't know. Not this."**

Fíli glared as the Vala told him he would see his brother in time. "I don't want to see him 'in time', I want to see him now."

_Kíli stared as Mahal told him he would see Fíli soon. "What does that mean?"_

**Mahal explained what he called 'his choice', and Thorin listened with rising hope.**

Fíli huffed as Mahal explained his choice, and told him firmly "I'm not making this decision without my brother." Mahal told him gently that he would have to, for this was a decision he had to make alone.

_Kíli glared a little as Mahal explained his choice, then told him that this had to be a decision he made with his brother. Mahal touched his hair gently and told him that this was a decision only he could make._

**"I would have to be a fool to refuse"**

"To spend more time with my family..."

_"This would be everything to me."_

**"One more chance."**

"To set things right..."

_"To know how this story ends..."_

**"To defeat the dragon- the one that lay atop the gold, and the one that lay inside it."**

"I would give anything."

_"To see them one last time."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was deliberately less... ponderous than the others. These three made the decision much faster, since the events had just happened for them and the pain was still fresh. Nawmean?


	6. The Real Reason the Choice Was Given

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or: How the Company of Thorin Oakenshield and the remnants of the Fellowship of the Ring became champions of the Gods

Eru stared down at the two Valar before him coldly.

"You have come to petition me for this. Why?"

Manwë bowed his head, yanking on Aulë's arm in an attempt to convince him to follow his brother's example. Aulë's head remained stubbornly high.

"Father, Arda was meant to last much longer than this. The Elves were never meant to leave this early. With something as simple as this, Arda could last many ages more, and your children shall not fall the way they already have."

"This is no fault of mine."

"With all due respect, Father, I think it is. They are your creations, after all." Aulë growled. Eru sneered.

"You overstep your boundaries. You have grown arrogant and complacent in recent ages."

"No, Father," Aulë exploded, yanking his arm from Manwë's grasp furiously and stalking toward him. "'Tis you who have grown arrogant and complacent. You would leave your children to fall to hatred and mistrust that _you_ taught them because you will not _admit_ that you were wrong!"

"Aulë-" Manwë hurried to his side in an attempt to calm him, but Aulë was having none of it.

"No, Brother. We have tolerated this injustice from the very moment it was born. I will tolerate it no more." He whipped back to face Eru. "You created the Elves in an attempt to form perfection itself, and when you realized that you had not succeeded, you created Men in an attempt to remedy it. When that failed, you blamed the faults you instilled in them on them and doomed them to die! How is that just?"

"The Elves  _are_ perfection!" Eru roared, clutching at the arms of his throne.

"Even if that were true, how is creating Men, then, fair? What were they meant to do? You claim you gave them domination of Arda, yet they only achieved it after the Elves left! Were they simply meant to worship your favored creation?"

"Men  _destroyed_ Elves!"

"They were your creation too! Both of them were! You formed them with these flaws, you created them exactly the way they are! Yet you claim that a species which looks down on all others to be superior? How can that be true? Their arrogance is their own downfall! This 'perfection' you instilled in them is exactly what makes them so deeply flawed!"

"Father, please, just listen-" Manwë attempted to cut in, but Eru wasn't listening any more.

"They created their own flaws!"

"You said they have no flaws!"

"They have no flaws because  _I have no flaws!_ "

"YOU ARE THE MOST FLAWED OF ALL OF US!" Manwë bellowed, tears glinting at the corners of his eyes, and when the other two turned to stare at him in astonishment, he turned his face away. "You are the most flawed of all of us, Father." He repeated quietly. "You, who sits here on your throne and ignores that which you had the heaviest hand in creating. You, who would hide here in your golden castle in an attempt to pretend that you are perfect, that you can never make mistakes."

Eru leaned back in his seat, staring at the one Vala who had never questioned him, who had never contradicted him. Manwë met his gaze unflinchingly, and Aulë set a steadying hand on his forearm.

Eru looked away, suddenly looking very old and very tired.

"Do as you will." He told them quietly. "I give you my blessing."

Aulë bowed slightly, pulling gently at his brother's arm as he began to leave the room. "Thank you, Father."

"Manwë! Aulë!" Eru called suddenly as they reached the door, and they both looked back. "Perhaps, my children... you should assist me in shaping my children, in the future."

Neither Valar could suppress the radiant smiles that took over their faces at his words.

"Of course, Father." They chorused, and left to do what should have been done a very long time ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So basically, they're going to mend the cracks in the relationships between Men, Elves, Dwarves, and Hobbits. In case that wasn't clear.
> 
> Lemme know if this makes any sense, I can't even tell any more.


	7. Aragorn, Éomer, and Dáin's Choices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The choices of Kings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a writing-style experiment this time.
> 
> Characters appearing in order:
> 
> Aragorn  
> Éomer  
> Dáin

Aragorn son of Arathorn, King Elessar and Bringer of the Golden Age of Men, Member of the Three Hunters and the Fellowship of the Ring which brought Peace to Middle-Earth and All Who Beheld Her...

Was very confused indeed.

The world was awash with white, so pale it gave the appearance of being draped in fog though there was no hint of extra moisture in the air before him. The floor beneath his feet made no noise as he shifted his weight uncomfortably, and he couldn't remember standing up.

_Hello, child._

He suppressed a noise which would have been called a squeak had it escaped his mouth and whipped around in search of the speaker.

"Who speaks? Show yourself!"

The white faded rapidly, and Aragorn leaped back as he found himself balanced rather precariously at the very edge of the Court of the Fountain, hundreds of meters above the lowest level of the city. He whirled around to stare at the empty courtyard. 

"Show yourself!"

_Calm yourself, Aragorn. You have naught to fear in this place._

"Where am I?" He asked warily, stepping away from the edge and still staring around in search of the owner of the voice. "This is not Minas Tirith."

_No, child. It is not. You are in the realm of the dead._

Aragorn froze. "The dead?"

_Indeed, child. You have succumbed to your long years at last. However, you are now faced with a choice._

 "A choice? What kind of choice do you speak of?"

From nothing stepped a figure wreathed in light, a soft breeze picking up from nowhere and breathing life into the empty city below him.

_You may stay here, child. A place of endless peace, sheltered from the harshness of Middle-Earth. This comes at a price, however._

"What kind of price?"

_There are those who, when presented with this choice, shall choose another path. One far more difficult. Should you choose to stay, you shall never see them again. Not even in the remaking of this world._

Aragorn scowled. "And why should I choose this path, then, if that is the price?"

_The other path is one of great heartache and suffering. You are being presented with a choice: stay here, with your wife and children and some of the people you care for, or go back._

"Go back?" He echoed.

_To return to a point in time in which you could make a difference. Your childhood, in your case. You would be twenty-one again, filled with the vitality of youth. However, many of those you love will not choose to join you. You would be very lonely, and you would once again be forced to earn your place on Gondor's throne._

Aragorn swallowed thickly. "And my children? Arwen?"

_I fear your children will not have the necessary effect on the time stream. Nor shall Arwen._

"Arwen is a fantastic wife, warrior, and queen," Aragorn defended with a heat born of long years defending his spouse.

_She is indeed. However, she does not hold the single grain of sand necessary to tip the scale._

"Single grain? I thought you said you'd be sending many people back."

_So we shall. However, if a single grain of sand is all it takes to tip a scale, think of what an entire handful would do._

Aragorn deflated, a hint of a smile touching his lips at the wry humor in the figure's voice.

"It makes sense, I suppose. May I have a chance to think on it?"

_This is not a decision to make lightly. Fear not, you have eternity to do so. I am afraid this place is rather boring, though- I wouldn't recommend staying here overly long._

* * *

 

Éomer woke up exactly where he had been feeling fit as a filly, which was rather surprising considering he had been fairly certain he was dying.

"What on Arda...?"

He sat up with no difficulty, stepping on the oddly warm wooden floor and stumbling to the door in what he recognized as his armor from his days as Third Marshal of the Riddermark. He pushed open the door and warm sunlight flooded the room, despite the fact that it had been winter when he lay down.

_Éomer _Éadig,_ son of Éomund, King of Rohan._

A figure stood at the end of the empty hall, and though Eómer got the sense that the voice originated with the figure, the other's mouth did not move and the words seemed to be spoken directly into his head as opposed to spoken out loud.

"And who might you be?"

The other gave a noise that Éomer was astonished to register as a snort before he- for he did bear the figure of a male- stepped out of the silhouetting light into full view.

"Do you know, you are the first person to ask me that?"

He studied the other male, taking in the broad shoulders and the heavy beard.

"You are not a Man."

"No, child. I am not. Nor am I Elf, Dwarf, Ent, or Hobbit."

"My question still stands. Who are you?"

"Your people call me  _Findele_ , I believe. The Inventor."

Éomer gaped. "You are an  _Engel._ "

The Vala smiled at him. "I am indeed."

"Why do you deign to speak with me?"

The other's smile softened and he turned to sit on the window seat behind him, gesturing for Éomer to join him.

"I am here to present you with a choice, child of the wild."

"What kind of choice?"

Sadness entered the Vala's eyes. "A final choice. Here, I present you with two paths. Down one lays sadness and loss, for many you expected to meet in the afterlife will not be there to greet you. Should you choose this path, you will lose some, but you shall live the rest of eternity in peace."

"And down the other?"

"Down the other also lays sadness and loss, for you shall again be forced to give up those who do not choose this path. But should you choose this path, you will experience war once again."

"And all of this means...?"

"You may choose to go on to the afterlife, child, and remain there for all eternity, for the actions of Melkor and his servants have doomed this world to the point that it can never be remade. Or, you can go back to a time you never experienced to live out a life you never led. A child of your maternal grandfather, elder brother of your uncle. A chance to change the world, to save it once more."

"Why am I being offered this choice?"

"You have led a great and noble life, Éomer. You being there would make a difference."

* * *

Dáin glared at Mahal.

"No."

The Vala seemed amused.  _You have not even heard my proposal, great King._

"Seriously, no. Fuck off. I've given enough to you bastards."

All humor left the Vala's face.  _You have indeed, son of the Iron Hills. Yet I fear you have one more decision_   _to make._

Dáin sat down heavily on the wooden chair placed conveniently close and stared around his home. Not the chambers in the Lonely Mountain (the ghost of his cousin had ever lurked in the corners of those rooms, and Dáin had never truly counted them as his home), but the rooms of his modest halls in the Iron Hills.

"All right, then. Tell me what I'm giving up this time."

The Vala sat across from him.

 _Your wife and children as you know them,_ Mahal told him bluntly.  _And a history of worthy kingship of a kingdom you never had any desire to lead._

Dáin stared blankly at him.

_You are faced with the choice to go on, into my halls where you shall remain forever separate from your dear King Brand and his predecessors, along with several of your cousins and many others besides. But you shall be at peace. Or you may choose to go back, to help save your cousin Thorin and his nephews, to make yet another difference in the world._

"But the price is my wife and children."

_Your son may never meet his husband, his child may never be born to him. Your wife will not have grown with you, your son still a child._

"How am I supposed to weigh one half of my family against another? How could you ask this of me?"

_This has to be your choice, my child. If I could spare you the pain, I truly would. But I have no power over the choices creatures upon Middle-Earth make, and I could not interfere until now._

"So you're basically telling me that Middle-Earth is relying on me, and that I'm an awful person if I go on."

_No, my child. Truly I am not. Many of your brethren have already chosen to go on, many with families they care about who they would not give up, not even for the world. They have gone on without judgement, and I will love you regardless of your choice. I will think no less of you should you go on._

* * *

Aragorn stepped up to where the figure stood, looking out over Gondor.

"I think I will stay here," he confessed. "My heart lies with the city I built. With my family. It would be betrayal of the highest degree to abandon them."

The other nodded peacefully.  _So shall it be. Be happy, Aragorn son of Arathorn. You have earned it._

* * *

Éomer sighed and stared down at the wooden planks that made up the floor, of the kind walls which had withstood his childhood, his adulthood, and so much more.

"I could make a difference?"

"Your presence would bring much good into the world."

"All right. I'll do it."

_You are brave indeed, child. I hope you find happiness._

* * *

Dáin glared at him some more, but the Vala did not twitch. The Dwarf let out a noisy sigh.

"Fuck it. Fine. Send me back. But if this turns out even worse for us, I'm coming after you with everything I've got."

The Vala smiled radiantly.  _I would expect nothing less._

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some notes:
> 
> Aragorn's fancy titles: I wanted to give Aragorn fancy titles cuz he's fancy and it's late and I'm tired.  
> Minas Tirith: capital of Gondor, for those of you who have forgotten (I had, which is why I'm adding it. Admittedly, it's because it's hella late, buuuuuut...)  
> Court of the Fountain: Lemme tell you how fun it was finding out what that bigass rock in Minas Tirith was called. Not. Not at all. But yes, it's the top of that bigass rock with the White Tree on it that the noble Steward of Gondor took a flying leap off in the movies.  
> Once again, just let me know if this makes any sense at all. I'm so tired it all sounds like 'bananabananabananatangerinepotato' to me right now. I realized right after I posted it that I was misspelling Éomer's name THE ENTIRE TIME.  
> Éomer Éadig: Title Eómer adopted during his reign. It is, according to Tolkien Gateway, "an Old English word meaning "happy, wealthy" and usually translated as "blessed", used for saints in medieval literature." and I believe it.  
> Findele: Mahal/Aulë's name translated as best I can manage into Old English  
> Engel: Er... this is fairly obvious. Since 'Valar' means something like 'angelic powers' in Quenya, I said that the Eorlingas are sensible so they're just going to call them 'Angels' here, which doesn't actually mean 'Angels' it means 'Valar' because their god is not God. (I am so tired, I don't even know if I'm making any sense, I'm sorry. I should not be allowed near a keyboard this late.)


End file.
